You blocked Truman’s face from the camera. Lying in front of him, tracing his sleeping features with the soft tip of your fingers. You thought it was cruel that he was kept in this enclosure. You thought it was even worse that he was watched when he was in the bathroom or in bed.

The only reason you were on this show was because your Christof was your father. He wasn’t even paying you, and you couldn’t leave. You’d been Truman’s best friend your whole life, and now the two of you were married and living together. You didn’t have a life outside of the studio. The only difference between your life and Truman’s was that he had no idea it was all fake.

You sigh softly as you gently caress Truman’s face. He looks so soft as he sleeps. You wish you could free him from this place.

In his sleep, Truman groans and rolls over, his back now facing you. You sigh and scoot closer to him, wrapping your arms around his torso.

You have to find a way to get him out of here.